Realistic Fantasies
by Jimmy the Gothic Egg
Summary: Rowena gets lost, discusses plots and things with Salazar, and learns a lesson. Possibly.


_Realistic Fantasies_

Rowena admitted she liked dark places, because reading by candlelight was almost romantic in a sense. She didn't mind cold places either, because once you've wrapped yourself in a blanket and are sitting warmly by a fire, life seems that much better. Finding dark, possibly drafty places in a castle wasn't all that hard either, and she had a multitude of places to wander to. Of course, somehow she'd been tricked into designing the staircases, which seemed to hate her for their existence, and after she'd found herself completely lost, she'd wandered into the dungeons area. It wasn't a horrible inconvenience, but Salazar never seemed to like people down here much, and Godric said something about him being territorial, which had frightened her a bit, because the last time she'd read about anything being territorial, some sort of beast had devoured some sort of human. While she doubted Salazar would do such a thing, there was something about the man that made you never quite sure what he was about to do, and there was that curious way he focused on her neck when they were talking. It probably meant nothing, but Hogwarts seemed determined to make them all crazy before any students even arrived. Who knows what it might've done to him with all the time he spent down in the dungeons. She'd just tried to climb up the stairs, and she was ready to smash something—possibly someone—against a wall.

Maybe she could figure out how to get back upstairs… Oh. The staircase had already moved on. Or so she guessed. It was quite possible the walls were changing as well.

"Hello, Rowena," said Salazar behind her, and she jumped. It probably wasn't too farfetched that he may be a vampire, but from what she could tell, there was a lot of bodice-ripping involved in that line of work, and she'd never really worn the kind the girls in her books had. Of course, they probably weren't all that _accurate_ books, but there were so many of the kind written, you had to think there was at least one documented case.

"Hello, Salazar," she said. "I think I'm, erm, lost."

The look on his face was somewhere between amusement and the expression of someone who _never_ got lost in castles that moved about, and thought anyone who did was just silly. He always had that expression on when he was around her, though it changed as the situation did, such as the expression of someone who never got buried beneath a pile of books, or made pies explode, or—

"I suppose you weren't watching where you were going," he said. "I still remember when you stepped where a staircase should have been…"

—Or did _that_, and ended up being caught by Helga, who wasn't all that good at holding on, while she was dangling over a very large drop, and anyone who did probably needed to be watched at all times like a small child who couldn't stop running into walls. And it hadn't been her fault, really, because that book was so enthralling, and she didn't even remember how she made the staircases move, or she would've gotten them to stop.

"It was a very good book," she murmured. "Erm."

"And what book are you reading now?" he asked. One brow was raised in a way that said, 'Oh, I'm sure it's a fantastic, fascinating read, but, really, do get out of my lair.'

"Oh, erm, it's…" She blushed, and suddenly he became rapt with interest. He always became interested just as she was about to say something hideously embarrassing, the he would laugh about for weeks in a quiet way that made her think she was constantly doing something wrong. "It's called _Kiss of Death_." There, now she'd gone and said it. She could've made something up that would cause him to lose immediate interest and leave, and she'd wonder around until she found a staircase.

He laughed. He actually laughed, truly and genuinely. She made a noise that could've been a chuckle, but it sounded more like a drowning cat.

"Please," he said, still laughing, "Oh, please, do tell me what it's about."

It would've been the perfect time to lie and say it was about Dementors or some other inane subject, except he would've _known_, because no one blushes that much about Dementors.

"Erm," she said. "Bodices… and ripping… of them."

He was still laughing, and it'd reformed with twice as much force. She opened the book in question and stared at the page a minute.

"It's a very good story," she muttered in defense. "_Really._ There's… plot… and… things."

He'd descended over her shoulder and read the page. He was still laughing too.

"This is just precious," he practically cackled. "What is this?"

Oh no oh no oh no! She'd opened to a horrible page! He'd pulled the book from her hand, and began reading aloud. She nearly sank to the floor in embarrassment.

"'His hard wobbling flesh penetrated—"

"Don't you dare keep reading!" she screeched, flinging herself at him to get the book away. He caught her, holding the book up. Damn him for being so tall! "Salazar, by nature's wrath, give it back!"

"And I thought you spent all day gathering information in the library! I'll have to knock next time I come in."

She screamed and grabbed his hair, forcing him down to her level.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Stop it!"

"Give it back or I'll pull your hair out, handful by handful!"

"Stop it! Fine!"

The book was dropped, and she scooped it up quickly, still not letting go of his hair.

"You said you'd let go!" he cried, grabbing at her hand and pushing it away.

She stuck her tongue out at him, which, in retrospect, was not the most mature way to handle it, but neither was pulling his hair. Going to a girls' school, she'd picked up a few things.

"Honestly, though," he said, running a hand through his hair, which she suddenly realized was a lot softer and glossier than hers. "I'd never imagine you reading that tripe."

"It's not!" she said indignantly. "Perhaps not… educational, but it _is_ a good read."

"I'm very sure. What—'His lips were warm and soft, and electrified bursts exploded through her blood.' This _is_ a good read."

Oh, damn, she'd opened the page again. She tried to think of a quick escape. "I'm sure your blood's never exploded."

"I should hope not. Sounds dangerous. My flesh has never wobbled either."

She went red again. His grin was against her ear, and she shivered.

"What else does it say?" he asked, clearly enjoying himself. He reached for the book again, but saw her hand go for his hair, and moved very quickly.

"Slytherin," she hissed carefully, and he passed her an indignant look.

"I don't know what you're trying to learn from that book anyway," he said, a sneer forming easily. "Isn't that why you spend hours toiling away amongst bookshelves? Because… oh, what was that clever little phrase you used?"

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," she said quietly. It was a really stupid phrase, she'd made up when Godric had asked her why she'd spent all afternoon in the library, and you couldn't just tell people you'd gotten lost! Helga already knew she was incompetent, but that was all right, because Helga knew all sorts of things like that, and didn't honestly mind. But if Gryffindor or Slytherin started thinking she couldn't handle her role, well, that would be problematic.

He regarded her carefully. "Yes, all right. So what _are _you doing with that book?"

"Well, I just thought, er, that it was, er, interesting, and, er…"

"Please stop saying 'er.'"

"All right."

She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he looked bored again. Maybe she could sneak away now—

He stepped very close to her very suddenly, wrapped an arm around her waist, and brought a hand to the back of her neck. She stared at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying not stare deeply into his eyes, or even look at him, but he pretty much covered most of her vision.

"Knowledge and wit and all that," he said. "I'm just testing something."

He kissed her with force, and she actually felt her knees buckle. The book dropped to the floor, and she felt a strong urge to _give in_, and her hands reached his face, possibly to pull him closer, and her eyes half-closed, and then he let go. She almost fell, if he hadn't still been holding onto her waist.

"There," he said, allowing her a moment to retain any means of composure she may have.

"What—Why?"

He shrugged. "I thought you might learn something."

She nodded, still getting over the shock. "I—erm—er—oh."

He kissed her again, perhaps because he really did like doing this to her, for various other reasons, she was sure. She didn't actually protest, though she considered it. Certainly her blood wasn't exploding, nor did she swoon, sigh, or moan (though she accounted the buckled knees as pure shock), though his hand moved down her robe in a way that made her gasp, and while he was soft, he wasn't exactly warm, but neither were the dungeons. This all seemed very important to take in, but she wasn't sure what it meant, not that it mattered. All the little details slowly dissolved away, though, as he continued to roam her body, and maybe she moaned, but that could've been him as well.

All in all, the book was forgotten, and she never did find the right time to go down and fetch it.


End file.
